


What We Can Be

by BrokePerception



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokePerception/pseuds/BrokePerception
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither Hermione or Minerva McGonagall was the sort of woman who acted on impulse, but acting, they did. HG/MM /Sequel to: Who I Really Am/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

BETA READ by _Peetsden_ & _repossessme_

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**Angst. Drama. ... That's all.**

* * *

Chapter 1

Hermione's gaze trailed over her old room. It hadn't really changed much at all since she had moved to live with Ron over a half decade prior now. A made double bed rested against the wall opposite the door to the hallway. A small night table stood on the left; one wall was occupied with a tall wooden wardrobe and a desk and chair – the same one where the door was. Both others were nearly entirely taken by bookshelves, so when she sat on the bed and looked to the right or left, all she saw was books. Hermione had already collected a fair lot of them over the years and had never had the heart to move any to the attic as her mother had sometimes suggested, despite the fact that there was at least a minor number she never read anymore. She liked to be surrounded by them, because they symbolized her childhood and path to her current knowledge and position. Her mum and dad had always kept her room like it had been then. Hermione, to no one's surprise, had taken most of her books with her to where she and Ron lived. She had never asked why, and they had never mentioned, but she was glad. Hermione Granger was glad to have someplace to call home regardless of what had happened.

What had happened was the end of her and Ron's relationship. It certainly hadn't been a very easy decision to make, but one Hermione had thought was the most honest to both herself and the ginger wizard who would have been her husband if she hadn't called it all off. The conversation in which she had told him had not been one she ever would forget. It might have been nearly the toughest she had ever made in her entire life. The memory sat fresh in her mind, and it overwhelmed her yet again like so many times in the last two months. Hermione slowly lowered her wine glass and rested it against her thigh, leaning her head against the tall headboard. Her eyes fluttered shut, letting herself go under again. She knew that she couldn't stop it all anyway. At least she could allow it to happen without necessarily bursting into tears again. Despite being painful, it had been truly the best, most honest, when she thought rationally. She was getting used to living with her folks again, too. The consequences of her decision were getting easier to bear.

When she had said she thought they needed some time apart for her to get everything together, that maybe their wedding should be called off for now, Ron's temper definitely had made an appearance. His ears had turned scarlet as always when he was upset in any way, and his voice had trembled when he asked her why, trying to contain his anger and not scream at Hermione. He hadn't even seen it coming. Then again, Hermione hadn't either until that night when she hadn't been able to sleep and had come across this scene of The L Word…

Hermione had calmly tried to say that everything had gotten a tad too overwhelming, since marriage was a big deal and she wanted to really clear her head. He had yelled a fair few times that he wasn't getting it and even suggested that she had met another, to which she had tried to respond with that same calm that no, she wasn't seeing or being with someone else at all, that she wasn't fucking someone else behind his back and that he should know her better if he thought of it as a possibility. She never would have shared the bed with anyone, not even Minerva, while still with Ron.

A silence had followed, and then his voice had been unusually calm when he said, "You aren't coming back, are you?"

She had looked him in the eye, not knowing what to read in those blue depths before saying in a small, defeated voice, suppressing tears, "We'll see. I'm sorry, Ron."

At that, he had only nodded, saying, "Me, too," before turning and leaving their house without more. She had just stood there looking after him until after he had left, before taking a deep breath to gather her wits and doing what she knew that she should do. By the time Ron got home again hours later, all Hermione's essential belongings, along with her clothes and books (everyone knew her books were some of Hermione Granger's most essential and precious belongings anyway), had been gone and a note lay on the kitchen table, held down with her engagement ring, informing him that she had taken her most necessary stuff and had gone to her folks if he or anyone needed her.

They had very been surprised alright, to find their daughter on the doorstep that night, with a bag over one of her shoulders. She had told them what she had said to Ron and had begged them to please not ask any more questions, for it all was difficult enough already. They had accepted that and never asked any more about it, with the exception of her mother once. It had been the second week after Hermione had moved in again when her father had had to be at work early and both women had been left at the table, when her mother had gently tried to ask what had happened. Hermione had replied she knew that she was only concerned and was very grateful, but it was something between her and Ron and something she herself had to come to terms with first. Jean Granger never asked about it again. She had quietly smiled and nodded in understanding and that had been it. Hermione had left for the Ministry minutes after.

Everyone at the Ministry, with the exception of the occasional curious _twat_ , of course, had been exceptionally quiet about their unexpected breakup. Ron, as expected, had gone straight to Harry and Ginny when she told him about taking time apart and temporarily calling off their wedding. Each of them had informed only their closest companions and family in much the same terms as Hermione had informed Ron. By now, two months after with absolutely no plan of her returning to Ron and them getting married after all, she assumed basically everyone knew as she wasn't being questioned. Of course, Rita Skeeter had tried to get the juicy details from her, but after Hermione only mentioning the word 'beetle', she had steered clear and as far as she knew hadn't tried to get at Ron either. It had been tough at first to see the people they both counted as their closest companions either together or even alone, but things were slowly settling. Ron still occupied the house where they had lived together and they had agreed to sell it once Ron had found somewhere new to live, not being very keen on moving back to The Burrow despite Molly's insistent offers. Hermione wasn't particularly looking for a new house. She didn't believe her folks wanted her to leave right away – in fact, they told her often enough that they were glad that she was living with them again for it made things livelier. Some of her meetings with Ron, as Hermione had expected, had consisted of yelling without actually agreeing to anything , but some had been successful – like the one in which the situation with the house they had bought together a year after the Battle was arranged.

She had come to accept the fact that she was not a straight woman at all – really, it was just too unfortunate that she had had to discover that about the same time as she discovered she was no longer madly in love with this man she would have married. She knew this now; some months in relative peace with no pressure of an impending wedding and whatnot had surely proved… enriching, as had looking up things on the net and reading stories of women who had experienced similar things.

She still thought of Minerva McGonagall sometimes, dreamed of her sometimes. Hermione had no doubt that they could have something beautiful together if given a chance. Despite the fact that Minerva was a woman and much older, plus her former professor and thus unlikely to fall for her, Hermione thought that they had a lot in common. She liked to believe that she intellectually-stimulated Minerva in conversation, like the other woman did to her. Over the years, it had shown that they thought the same about a great deal of matters, too. They just never talked about homosexuality or even bisexuality. Then again, there were a lot of personal matters they never had discussed.

No, if it hadn't been for those three things, Hermione thought that they could really have something beautiful. However, these were just the three things neither she nor Minerva could change even if she were willing and even though McGonagall had surprised many with her magic in later years already. Therefore, Hermione hoped that as she thought their love could grow to something meaningful when given the chance to be together to let it blossom, those thoughts would slowly disappear and feelings dampen to a minimum when not together. Maybe if not given the chance or torture herself more by suggesting to see her or anything, they would disappear and she could move on either with a woman or a man but not Ron or Minerva.

* * *

Author's Note: Ah, my last... for a very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

While it was always busy at the British Ministry of Magic, some days could just be unexpectedly grueling. That day really had been one of those. Hermione was truly glad that she could go home now and wouldn't be expected back there until after the weekend. She stood waiting for the elevator down with some other Ministry officials who were done for the day. She knew that a fair few had left already and that a fair few more would still remain a little while longer. Her work for the day was done, though. She had worked hard enough for it. She didn't really feel guilty in any way going home while others still remained.

"Miss Granger."

She reacted to the familiar, unique voice first with panic, as her heart jumped a bit, but that one second was followed by a smile and her looking to the right, straight into the face of the headmistress of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Minerva Gaia McGonagall. "Professor McGo–"

"Minerva," she corrected.

" _Minerva_ … what are you doing here?" Hermione then asked in a kind but surprised tone.

"Hogwarts' business," she replied with a slight smile. "Usually when I'm not at Hogwarts, I'm doing something related to the school in one way or another. That was often so already when I was a Deputy and now I'm the Headmistress _definitely._ Plus, it always gets a wee bit busier this time of the year."

"Ah, yes…" Hermione replied, tumbling into a typically intelligent conversation with Minerva McGonagall headfirst.

Without truly having realized or remembering who had suggested or if anyone had – not that she minded – Minerva and she had ended up in a restaurant in Wizarding London and were patiently waiting for their dinner over their continuing conversation. It would just be some light fish and chips – a secret addiction which Minerva admitted having though she indulged only rarely. It would satisfy for now, though. After all, company did do much.

A couple of seconds of silence passed – the first of the night – Minerva set her glass of pumpkin juice down audibly, catching her ex-pupil's attention. She had seemed rather… lost until that point with her eyes turned down tracing the lines in the aged wood. Minerva smiled gently and laced her feminine fingers together once the younger witch looked up at her. "You know I'm not a very intrusive person, but I've heard about you and Mr. Weasley calling off your wedding."

It wasn't a question, just an invitation for her to talk as she wished or dismiss it just as easily. Hermione was grateful for the way in which she had stated her question, because most didn't. Most of those who had dared to ask reacted surprised and shocked and overwhelmed her with questions she couldn't answer or didn't feel very comfortable with. She thought of it as a rather personal business, especially for the real thing that had lead them to be where they were. She hadn't repeated it to anyone but Luna.

Hazel eyes trailed the elder witch's features, noting the obvious creases beside her eyes, some left behind from laughter, and others from worrying often. The worry lines were deeper and more numerous than those from laughter, and Hermione found herself sincerely hoping that it wasn't because she had worried more than she had laughed, though she knew chances were great that she had. She truly hoped that Minerva McGonagall had known joy and laughter in her life, too, despite the misfortune she knew the elder Gryffindor had felt.

With a pang of surprise, she realized she had never even heard the elder woman laugh. She wondered about the sound but found that somehow she couldn't imagine it in any way. She knew that it wouldn't be like Dolores Umbridge's high little fake laugh. She knew what it wouldn't be like, but not how it what it would be. She would just have to hear it first and then decide whether she liked it or not… She wondered if anyone alive had heard it and in that case who had heard it. "I'm unsurprised," Hermione eventually said. "I'm sure that basically everyone must know now."

Minerva McGonagall didn't smile. She just looked… nearly neutral. She seemed calm and open to listen intently, and as she looked deep into those teal green eyes, not judging or appearing overtly excited for gossip, she could, Merlin forbid, feel her heart flutter. Then she spoke in that kind, gentle tone laced with her traditional Scottish burr, and she was entirely sold. "I won't ask what happened," Minerva said. "I'm certain that it is hard enough for both parties as it is without outsiders asking questions. In effect, it remains between you and Ronald. I just wanted you to know that if you should happen to want to talk, I'll gladly listen… and make time for you even if Hogwarts needs me – unless it is, of course, an emergency." Minerva spoke the last in a slightly firmer tone, having noticed Hermione's mouth opening and having a quite good idea what she was about to say. She seemed to have been correct in her assumption, given the look upon the younger witch's face. "I don't want to force you to talk to me or to anyone, but know that the offer is there. For now, I just want to know if you're doing alright – at least given the circumstances."

Minerva's eyes had somehow taken on a rather penetrating shade of green, Hermione found. They bored into her but never uncomfortably, and that somehow scared her… It scared her how Minerva's penetrating her defenses didn't bother her. She blinked, trying to construct an honest yet carefully worded answer at that.

"Please," Minerva whispered, extending her hand and covering Hermione's with it.

Hermione didn't need to be told what Minerva meant. The Headmistress must have learned to read her and maybe people in general very well. She begged for honesty, no carefully crafted answers. The touch brought Hermione to a loss for words, though. She looked down at their joined hands. Minerva's was actually milky white and more flawless than hers. She had seen her do this with others right after the Battle, so it wasn't something unusual, but still she knew it was a method of comfort Minerva reserved for those she really cared for or when the situation might require it. It touched her heart. It touched her soul. All she wished to do was to turn her hand underneath the elder witch's and hold onto it with all that she had. She knew that she couldn't, though. She was quite certain that wouldn't be warranted but rather met with a measure of awkwardness. Hermione didn't want that.

A part of her wanted to let go now, so as not to torture herself any longer, but the part that wanted to touch and hold onto Minerva seemed yet too strong. The arrival of their food helped her decide otherwise, though. She saw the waiter arrive with their ordered fish and chips, walking up to their table, and she jerked her hand back. Any awkwardness which might have followed was taken away by the waiter gently setting their food down. Minerva gently smiled, after thanking the waiter and then reached for the silver cutlery. Hermione smiled back and followed her, taking up her fork and knife and wishing her a good meal in return before digging in.

Again, she was reminded of how much she knew she could love this woman sitting opposite her, how much she maybe already did without wanting or knowing it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hermione Granger quietly watched the bird take off into the cloud-free early morning and soon disappear in the distance. She sometimes really hated not having an owl herself, and as she sat back down, she considered getting one. She always had to wait until the morning to send letters and try convince the owl delivering the Daily Prophet to drop her letter off or wait until someone else Owled her first.

She suppressed a yawn with her free hand, the other holding half a piece of toast with some butter and jam on it. Damn. Why did she have to wake up so early again? It was often so that she woke about the same time on the weekends as she did during the week, even though she never set her alarm and could sleep in without any issues. It was sometimes annoying – especially when she had gone to bed rather late the night before and lain awake more often than actually sleeping.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, finally taking her gaze from the window, Hermione popped the last little bit of her toast in her mouth and chewed. She hadn't bothered to set the table for just herself – what with her father abroad now for his job and her mom having gone to visit her sister in the south. She was not expected at work or anywhere else today and hadn't really planned anything either. She would thus be inside for the day, doing some work for the Ministry from home and maybe getting to that new book she had ordered the week prior – one on Transfiguration. She had bought the older version years ago, finding it very interesting, so when she had heard the book was going to have a new edition released soon with significant changes, she had immediately ordered it. She had, of course, leafed through it upon arrival and found that indeed the structure had been changed and some chapters added that the old hadn't had. So yes… maybe she would do that today, too.

The letter she sent was for Minerva McGonagall, to tell her that she had tremendously enjoyed the night before and to convey that she wouldn't mind at all if it were repeated in the future… and she did with the majority of her being. A part of her of course was hesitant, for it feared that she was on thin ice and testing herself just a bit too much. Actually, she was a little afraid that Minerva might agree to meet her again and that it would only make her feelings worse. One thing she didn't fear was that she was being suggestive. Minerva McGonagall had been unusually open with her the night before with her composure and the enthralling way in which some smiles had crossed those thin lips.

She remembered those smiles and considered that she should smile more often, because it made her suddenly glow with beauty, made every one of Hermione's senses tingle. Hermione bit down on her bottom lip at the mere thought. She had looked so beautiful the night before, so uninhibited… so pure, so open… so approachable. She hadn't looked so far away anymore, rather… tangible and obtainable maybe.

Hermione's eyes inevitably fluttered shut. She shook her head, feeling a sudden but intense heat come to her cheeks and a tingle of lust run down her spine. It was hopeless how the mere thought of Minerva could make her become so wet and so… _ready_ – wetter than she had ever been for Ron. Then again, Hermione hadn't been with anyone in more than two months. She had masturbated on occasion when she had thought she couldn't take it any longer, but mostly, it hadn't been very satisfying at all. Oh, Hermione had learned to handle her body very well. She knew how to rub and stroke to get herself to orgasm… but those orgasms had always only been very brief and mild ones. True, she never had reached any as easily with someone else, but often, when they did happen, they were definitely more intense than DIY, and she wasn't sure if easiness and frequency won over intensity…

She couldn't remember the last time she had masturbated, and the strength with which her libido announced itself, gave her the idea that it might have been too long. Her eyes opened and fell upon the clean, round wooden kitchen table. She had looked up more on bisexuality and the like and read 'stories'. Hermione vaguely remembered reading one where one woman had pushed her eager lover down on the kitchen table and gone down on her there. She remembered it well, because the lead character had had long ebony hair as well…

She quietly pushed away from the kitchen counter. No, she was above these feelings. She was above a bunch of hormones coursing through her body – or so she thought. She seemed to be mistaken, though, because as she moved to leave the kitchen and her thighs brushed against each other, she was made acutely aware of how wet she had become just remembering Minerva and the one story that she had read… _Oh._

She wasn't above this. She leaned heavily upon the kitchen table then with a hand, her head lolling down and eyes fluttering shut. Her other hand moved down and pushed her baggy PJ shorts and panties down enough, so that she could spread her legs a tad to give herself access. A moan slipped past her lips as her own finger slid through wet curly hairs. Her knees shook as her middle finger entered and she bowed slightly more over the table, leaning more heavily upon her hand. _Well, fuck it._

She turned as her legs began shaking more violently and bordered more on the edge of giving underneath her weight. The pressure on her hand was becoming painful, too. Her one hand still between her thighs, she pushed herself up on the kitchen table with the other, glad to be off of her feet, and began to rub her forefinger and middle finger against her clit fast. Feeling the pleasure rip through her body, pleasure gathering to build higher and higher toward orgasm, Hermione threw her head back and began to pant, the sensations quickening her breath and heart rate. Images of Minerva McGonagall smiling gently swam in her mind as she came hard.

* * *

**Author's Note : **I'm aware that I'm early. However, I leave on a crash course tomorrow night with my university. :s Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Of course, Hermione had anticipated getting a letter back sooner maybe rather than later. To let hers go by without response would just have been unkind, and Minerva McGonagall was a great many adjectives but never remotely unkind. She was a strict woman, and one who always abided by the rules and urged others to do the same – in particular careless pupils of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She never had expected Minerva would reply in that way, though. The letter had stated she would be less busy over the holidays, once all letters had been sent to the new witches and wizards-to-be. It had ensured her that Minerva had very much enjoyed their conversational dinner, too – in fact, she had enjoyed it so much she hoped it might be repeated when the calmer holidays mentioned came in sight. Actually, she might find a gap the next Tuesday night, too. If Hermione could free herself that same night as well, maybe they could meet for dinner in London somewhere, if Hermione knew of anywhere nice?

The younger witch had debated before replying, in the end confirming that she could free herself and that she would truly be delighted. She would rely on Minerva's choice of a restaurant and anticipate her suggestion eagerly. She had very much hoped it hadn't sounded too excited.

Oh, Minerva had made _a_ suggestion, all right. Hermione had vaguely recognized the name of the restaurant upon reading through Minerva's second reply, and her mind had connected it to expensive for one reason or another. She didn't know where she really remembered it from, though…

By the time Tuesday came around, she still hadn't managed to discover where she had remembered it from, but she had confirmed her vague connection to 'expensive'… She had, therefore, doubted more than ever as she stood before her wardrobe, trying to decide which dress she would be wearing. It couldn't really be too nice, but she couldn't look too casual in comparison to everyone else either. She had wondered for a while whether she should go or not. Finally, she had noticed the time and had realized that if she were to dally much longer, she wouldn't have to go at all, because she would just be incredibly late. That had truly made the decision for her very fast. She had only barely managed to shower, get dressed and make something of her unruly hair and make-up before Apparating to London, where Minerva had suggested they meet and from where they had walked to the restaurant together.

She gazed over at Minerva, trying to conceal the secret looks. It proved to be very hard to keep her eyes off of the older woman, though. Hermione wasn't the only one who had done her best to look nice tonight. Minerva was wearing robes she had never seen on her before. It might be normal, considering she hadn't really seen much of the headmistress in the last decade, but somehow she doubted even if she had seen her more, she would have seen her wear those. They seemed much too fanciful to wear at Hogwarts or on any other casual day. The cut was deeper than the traditional robes she always wore for teaching, even hinting to a bit of cleavage. The velvety emerald green contrasted remarkably with her milky white and soft-looking skin; so did Minerva's mostly grayed ebony hair. It definitely had gotten greyer than she remembered, but it nearly gave Minerva's appearance, Minerva in all, something more – something... more alluring. Although the grey strands were gathered in the usual bun, it seemed much looser than those she traditionally wore while at Hogwarts and was more beautiful than elegant tonight. Her green eyes seemed to be much more open as well, and Hermione considered the thought of her having taken the time to apply mascara. A slight bit of dark red lipstick tinted her thin lips, too. She was both slightly jealous and in awe. She had stood by the bathroom mirror for minutes, carefully applying her makeup trying to look nice, and still she stood in the shadow of this woman, who with only very little changes looked more breathtaking than ever. Oh, and what effect it had on her. She had never wanted Minerva so much, and each second she sat there, she could feel her control slipping away and regretted the decision to come more. Hermione feared the only factor that saved Minerva from being thoroughly fucked was being in a public space… but only _barely_. Needless to say, in those little fantasies Minerva McGonagall was always very willing and accepting… She was only barely keeping herself in check, suppressing the urge not to slide her foot from her pump and slide it up Minerva's leg and, and…

"Hermione, are you all right?"

"Eh?" Hermione blurted, drawn from her daydreams and looking up straight into the face of the woman she was desperately trying not to take right then and right there. If her feelings for Minerva had tampered a tad in the last couple of months, they had just crashed back in place and intensified more than ever. She didn't even realize she was panting, like she had just run a mile. "I'm sorry, what did you say just now? I was a little lost," Hermione whispered, realizing that her breath had quickened considerably.

"Yes," Minerva agreed in a rather thick accent then. "I noticed. Are you all right?"

Oh, Merlin… That thick burr shot straight down to her core, too. Hermione had noticed that it tended to grow thicker when they were more personal, and if she already thought it so enticing at that point, how would it be if she spoke in an even thicker tone, how would she speak if she were underneath her and… _Damn._ She stood. "I am. I believe I just need to use the loo. I'll be back in just a minute," Hermione said apologetically, smiling briefly before turning and going in search of the ladies room. Too bad she couldn't just splash some water in her face, for it would ruin her makeup. It would be more effective than a local Cooling Charm, but the latter would just have to do, she feared. Maybe it would enable her to get through the night without actually doing Minerva on their dinner table but even more without being bothered by those hot flashes and sordid images. She wondered what the matter with her was at that point. If Luna had been right on her thinking, assuming that it had to do with pheromones, Hermione was certain Minerva had never exerted that amount in her presence before. She had never reacted that strongly to Minerva before.

She sighed with obvious relief as the Cooling Charm spread over her skin and the rest of her body, closing her eyes and telling herself she would go back in a few minutes and get through their night together without those images, just having a normal conversation with her former professor in an intellectual way and making a nice evening of it. Yes, she was calming down already. Good. She wasn't a horny teenage boy – she should have better control over her hormones and lusts. They would just talk as they usually did, get into debates over Transfiguration and other new changes in magic while having a nice dinner at an expensive restaurant. They would just have a joyous evening doing that – despite the fact that it would be even more joyous if sex were to be involved. She sighed. No, she wasn't ready to go back yet.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

She at least managed to complete dinner without actually assaulting Minerva McGonagall. It hadn't been entirely fantasy-free, though – especially not when the arrival of their respective ordered dinners lead to more quiet conversation and freedom for Hermione's overactive brain to go haywire. Oh Merlin; what if it hadn't been for the recently cast Cooling Charm? Would it have been even worse then?

The night had been truly marvelous, with intelligent conversation about magic she never actually seemed to have with others. She was very glad that Ron and their stranded relationship hadn't been mentioned. She thought that maybe Minerva had somehow sensed she didn't really feel like talking about it and would truly let the matter rest unless Hermione suggested it herself. Actually, when she thought about it, that behavior was very Minerva; anything else would have been rather strange for her. Still, it filled Hermione with a sense of gratitude for Minerva. Merlin forbid, it made her heart swell even more with undeniable love.

Once they had worked through their dishes and engaged in conversation, Hermione definitely regained some more control over her raging hormones. Therefore, she was disappointed to hear the other woman say that she should head back to Hogwarts. She had a meeting with Hogwarts' Board of Governors rather early, before most were even awake – it had been the only suitable moment for all parties. Despite being all right with just a few hours of sleep, Minerva really needed those hours. She would not be able to function well without.

"I _really_ enjoyed tonight," Hermione said as they came to a halt. The witches had escaped through the back door – which lead to a somewhat darkened alley – just a lesser-used side alley to the main street where they entered earlier, Minerva had said, upon Hermione's stunned gaze when they had stepped through the door. Minerva seemed to know the owner of the restaurant.

The elder witch gently smiled. "I did, too," Minerva said.

Despite being aware that their ways had to part, neither of the witches moved. They just stood there gazing quietly at each other until Hermione blurted, "You're so beautiful."

She failed to notice Minerva smile gently and shake her head in the darkness of the alley. They had stepped a couple of inches away from the door before coming to a halt again. "You are, too," she whispered, her long feminine fingers intuitively searching for Hermione's and encircling her thin wrist, sliding down to squeeze younger fingers with her older ones. She had only intended to keep the contact brief and maybe almost meaningless, but it didn't really happen that way…

The touch of hands despite its intended innocence caused a jolt of ecstasy in Hermione. She never could have guessed you could long for someone so badly that you were caught off-guard by hot flashes and that the mere touch of them, even merely looking at them, could make you want to fuck them into next year. Hermione hadn't ever experienced this with Ron or anyone else for that matter. The touch elicited a heat inside her she couldn't possibly ignore, and she couldn't control her body's reaction anymore, stepping closer in the darkness and leaning in, her lips landing in graying ebony hair. It didn't matter where they landed really, as long as they touched _her_ – after all, she would somehow feel her way down to where she wanted to be. Her nose in the elder witch's hair, taking in the smell of her shampoo and conditioner, wasn't necessarily a bad thing either. It really made her head swim if it wasn't already – after all, the smell was laced with something so uniquely Minerva McGonagall…

Her eyes fluttered shut, mind reeling now with the suppressed want of so many months… She was moving in even closer, her body tight against Minerva's, their breasts pressed together. She would not survive it if Minerva denied her now, though she knew it was a relatively great possibility in that moment. Her left hand still trapped within Minerva's iron hold, she raised her right one and reached over, touching stone. She had just pressed the woman who had once been her professor and headmistress against a wall in an alley somewhere in Wizarding London. She never would have thought of this happening at all, and if, Merlin forbid, there were to be a first time between them, she never would have imagined it to be like this. Still, their position was something hot and exhilarating, especially since Minerva didn't release her hand. It gave her hope that Minerva might be willing anyway, too… and that thought alone made her really want to fuck Minerva right then, right there. She had never been with a woman other than in her thoughts, but she somehow knew that being with a woman would not be less satisfying than being with a man. If Minerva were to allow her to do all that she wanted to do… she would leave happy.

Then she whispered her name, and Hermione was lost. "Her…mione."

She was so right. Minerva's voice in the heat of the moment carried her Scottish lilt more than ever, and the fact that it was spoken breathlessly added more to the intensity. She never could have imagined her own name sounding so good and despite how much Hermione had hated it as a child because most people never managed to pronounce it correctly, she never wanted to be named anything else now. She suddenly loved her name!

"I can't help myself," Hermione admitted, the fear of doing anything against the elder witch's wishes reduced her desire but did not quelish it. What if her whispered name was Minerva telling her to stop? This wasn't the place or time, and she should have pushed away and… but, what if Minerva wanted her as well? In that case, there was no better place or time. In that case, what was the point of not continuing now? Waiting would only test her sanity and control more. "I will stop if you…" she managed, gasping her words in Minerva's graying tresses, the agony the mere thought of being pushed away elicited, making her want to cry.

"I don't…" Minerva whispered, and at that point Hermione could have dueled everyone, and that moment it became absolutely _necessary_ for her to take Minerva McGonagall against that rough stone wall and make her see those same stars she was already seeing at the realization that Minerva McGonagall didn't want her to stop but continue to make love to her, because that's what it was really: making love, despite the fact that serious fucking definitely would ensue. She somehow had the sense of mind still to shrug her wand from her sleeve and slash it in the air, casting a Silencing Charm and a Disillusionment Charm on both herself and Minerva, murmuring the incantations as she used her nose to feel her way to Minerva's temple, her lips finding her cheek and head tilting slightly… lips finding Minerva's for the very first time. It was a mere touch at first, but then the vigor of the moment took hold of them both, and they fought to deepen the kiss, opening and closing their mouths both in tandem and not at all, but it didn't matter as long as they were kissing and finally touching.

Hermione only realized their hands had disconnected when hers found Minerva's hip and Minerva's cupped the side of her face as they opened their mouths simultaneously, ready to taste each other and discover the depths beyond. Tongues met and stroked tentatively as Minerva's hand moved higher and caught in half loose brown strands. Little fireworks went off in the younger witch's head as Minerva used her hold to _guide_ them, their kisses truly making Hermione feel more than she had felt when she had been naked with Ron. The mere fact that Minerva was controlling her so… _Oh._ Who even thought about the roughness of the stone as their tongues fucked each other in promise of what could follow. What if that talented tongue slowly continued its path down to…? Hermione might just die from utter delight.

She had only just left that thought when she suddenly felt Minerva's other hand upon her back, pressing them closer together, their kiss coming to a halt and those lips leaving feather light searing kisses in their wake as they fell upon her jaw and gently trailed over it. Hermione intuitively tilted her head to allow Minerva better access; groaning and gasping with desire as she felt those lips upon the side of her throat, gently nipping. This was not a moment for tender kisses. She wouldn't have it any different.

"Please, open your legs for me…" She could feel herself grow wetter as Minerva obeyed without a word. Hermione's warm hand slid down and nails dug into Minerva's thigh, slowly lifting the elder woman's leg over her hip, though never letting go of it. Her left thigh moved between Minerva's as the need to feel her overwhelmed Hermione. She quietly tilted her head back and captured rosy lips with hers once more, the moan that escaped Minerva's lips turning her on more than she already was. She had to feel her. She just wouldn't survive if she didn't. Her fingers caught hold of the fabric, teasing it slowly higher as she felt Minerva's hand upon her back tighten, pushing her thigh more between Minerva's and Minerva's moving further between hers. If she could only hump on Minerva's thigh a few times back and forth, she would have a blazing orgasm, she knew.

Elegant fingers caused an unruly lock to fall free from its previous confines, releasing a few bobby pins with no effort. Hermione felt her hair slide down in her neck, felt Minerva's hand tighten in it, their kiss reaching a level of intensity never seen or experienced by either witch. Lips opened and closed, tongues curled and uncurled in a dance with each other they hadn't been aware they had known until that point. Then Hermione's palm found bare flesh, finally having managed to drag the emerald fabric of her robes high enough to reveal a shapely, milky white thigh to the darkness and the warm touch of her hand. The fabric slid slightly higher of its own accord, just as Hermione palmed the soft skinned thigh. Minerva moaned in her mouth loudly, making Hermione's mind go down further into the gutter.

Then Minerva's hand disentangled from her unruly curls and moved down, pushing at Hermione's shoulder. Their lips broke apart with an audible pop, and if Hermione wasn't so surprised by the action, she would have been in awe at how easily Minerva's forefinger found her lips, shushing her, intuitively knowing she would question the sudden action. "We can't… do this against a wall in mid-London," Minerva managed. "We're both at least… slightly tipsy."

"I'll still want you on the morrow," Hermione spoke, turning her head slightly so that she could speak.

"We'll talk about this then," Minerva said. "Come… by at Hogwarts, ten AM."

A touch upon her lips and an audible pop and she was left holding air.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A sigh eschewed from thin lips as green eyes incidentally fell upon the huge clock hanging on the wall opposite her heavy wooden desk. It was already half past eleven now, and Minerva's brow furrowed at that realization. She thought it odd, that Hermione hadn't arrived yet. It definitely wasn't like the younger female Gryffindor witch not to be anything less than punctual, and even if something kept her from getting anywhere in time, she was the sort of witch who would at least warn the other of arriving later or not at all. No, it didn't seem like Hermione Granger not to be there without any word at all either by owl or Patronus, and it worried her slightly, but at that very same time a strange, uncomfortable feeling settled in Minerva's centre. _What if…?_

Maybe… she was hung-over from the night prior? After all, she seemed to recall that Hermione had had a fair bit more and even her head hadn't been as it should be once she woke from her sleep… but then she was a Scot, and Scots were known to be able to hold their liquor much better. Then again, she could easily have taken some potion, just like Minerva had.

The elder Gryffindor quietly pushed back from her desk and stood, walking over to the window and looking over at the domain of the now old school, hands clasped behind her back. Maybe she had realized what a grave mistake she had made the night before. Maybe she no longer dared to show herself to Minerva, afraid to tell her she regretted it. Maybe it had been something on the spur of the moment, her loneliness and the alcohol having controlled both her actions and her thoughts. While Minerva didn't really see Hermione as someone who did things without thinking, she also remembered the alcohol on her breath as she had kissed her. Alcohol did strange things to a person really, even after only two glasses.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she remembered those kisses and the effect which they had had on her.

Of course, Hermione Granger was a beautiful and engaging young woman, who was sure to make something of her life. She was much too intelligent and eager not to. A strange sense of pride somehow filled her at the mere thought of her. Hermione was one of a handful of her former pupils she was proud to have taught, to have seen grow to an adult. The fact that she was a former pupil definitely made matters more difficult, though.

Though the fact that she had formed good and long-lasting relationships with the majority of those former pupils, Minerva thought it was hard to not see them in light of the line that had been between both of them while at Hogwarts even after they had left the school. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to see her former pupils in a different light in later decades. She blamed her age. She was now more than half a century older than those who would graduate this year. She could very well have been their mother or even grandmother without anyone quirking their eyebrow – especially in the Wizarding World where everyone knew how long she had been there despite her appearance, aging magically and thus slower than Muggle women's.

Strangely enough, despite Hermione's much younger age, Minerva never had the feeling that she was talking to someone barely twenty-five. Of course, it was a fact that she had much more experience than the younger woman, but Hermione Granger had been through a war as well. She had most likely read the same amount of books and seen about the same as the average person of Minerva's age.

That fact was actually less worrisome in the equation than was the fact that Hermione was female. She knew that in the Muggle world, there existed a significant number of people who were 'homophobic', thus not accepting of relationships that didn't consist of a man and a woman. That was less so in the Wizarding world, maybe most particularly because one of the Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been gay as well. Anyone who knew a little of the Founders, knew it. Helga Hufflepuff, the woman who had leant her name to the House with the same name, had been a lesbian.

The Welsh witch had never tried to hide her relationships with women in any way. She was known to have been with an Iraia in her twenties and early thirties. They were said to have had an argument over Helga's decision to accept the rest of the pupils without any criteria at all. Iraia had thought Helga to have sunken down and to merely have settled with 'the rest', while Helga didn't see it that way at all, stating that despite not fitting with the strict criteria of Slytherin, Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, one could still be a witch or wizard, and that it was important to be accepted no matter what. Acceptance was of great importance for the woman who had always loved women. Helga was known to have fallen for a much younger woman years later, a woman called Freya. When Helga died from plague in her mid-fifties, Freya was said to have fled the country to never return, heartbroken and in despair.

She intuitively looked over at the portraits and saw that Helga was awake, while eyeing her rather intently… as if she knew what exactly Minerva was thinking. As Minerva turned back, she seemed to suddenly remember something about Hermione telling her that she needed to get her mother from the train station this morning. She would return today from a visit with her sister or so she remembered. Maybe the train had been delayed and that was why Hermione was late. Yes, that would be the most reasonable, for why Hermione hadn't arrived at Hogwarts yet.

Wouldn't it still have been like Hermione to at least send a brief Patronus to let her know she was all right but would be late?

A female voice said the headmistress' name suddenly, and Minerva turned at once to look at the person who had spoken. She hadn't heard the door open at all, but as she turned and looked to the portraits, Minerva realized why: no one had entered; it had come from one of the portraits. She had been that far gone in her thoughts that she hadn't even recognized the voice – Dilys Derwent's, one of her female predecessors. She looked rather alarmed, and it didn't really sit well with Minerva. In fact, the headmistress' heart began to hammer faster at the look upon the pale canvas face, and Minerva could see how the fellow portraits were curious, too – curious wasn't the right word in that context. She stepped closer to the string of portraits and stopped at her desk.

"Minerva, I suspect that you want to know, Hermione Granger and her mother were just brought to St. Mungo's. I heard something about a car accident and no pulse!"

Minerva just stood there looking at the now deceased headmistress, not reacting in any way before swallowing visibly and taking a rather deep breath. "Albus, please tell Filius where I am if he should need me or anyone else. Tell them to contact me when it is urgent only and say you aren't certain when I'll return for I don't know myself quite yet."

She didn't wait for an answer or an agreement. Instead, she just extended her hand, glittery gray powder floating right into it from a pot on the mantelpiece as she strode to the fireplace purposefully.

No one was surprised to hear her voice call, "St. Mungo's!"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Allison!" Minerva exclaimed, pushing away from the white wall as she saw a familiar face. She had been waiting for a while now, hoping to garner a bit more information from someone, but no one had come yet…

Immediately, after she had Apparated to St. Mungo's, she had gone straight to Information, asking about Hermione and her mother and saying she had heard the both of them were taken there, but the Healer at the desk had been unsure of their condition. Ellie, according to the tag worn on her bosom, only confirmed the news and said she hoped to know more soon.

"Allison, what's going on? I know you are undoubtedly in a hurry, but…" Minerva said; her hand moved to lie upon the other witch's arm. The Healer turned to the voice, surprised to be looking at her old school mate, her face grim and rather worried, gray nearly curly hair whipping about her face, having escaped the thin bobby pins which usually held her loose twist together. Minerva had learned to read Allison Loughty's face well over many years. After all, they had known each other since third year at Hogwarts, when they had been only thirteen – they met when the Professor of Herbology paired them for an essay on Toadstools. Allison was a Hufflepuff, but despite all that, they had become close and had continued to remain so, with the occasional dinner when their respective jobs allowed them.

Vivid blue eyes moved to meet hers, and the Healer inhaled deeply, nodding slowly. If there was just one aspect that Minerva very much liked about Allison both as a person and as a Healer, it was the fact that she stated the facts as they were. She was the sort of person who, if asked, told the truth, always with hope where there was any advisable… without euphemisms if little need to. She knew that she had convinced her to tell her just that, the truth, in that one look, and Minerva felt her heart race, sincerely hoping that the situation wasn't too serious.

Allison inclined her head slightly to indicate that Minerva should just walk along, as she began down the corridor once more. "St. Mungo's was notified of an accident close to King's Cross immediately after it happened. The other car driver must have come from a side street and drove straight ahead, most likely without looking. Due to the high-speed impact, their car was catapulted across the road, where two other cars rammed into them. I don't know which of the two was sitting behind the wheel, but the driver got caught between the seat and the steering block. I wasn't there myself, because there was an emergency with another patient on the Spell Damage ward just about that time, but I heard they had a rather hard time getting her free. They managed to keep her alive until their arrival here, but the damage was very severe and she passed away not long after. They did try to resuscitate her for a little while, but all to no avail, I'm afraid." Minerva could hear the obvious defeat in Allison's tone of voice upon relying this bit of information, and she knew that she was sad that a patient had died even if she hadn't been there.

"What about the passenger?" Minerva managed to ask her.

"Garrott's working on the passenger. I only had a brief glance, so I can't say anything for better or worse… but she's lost a lot of blood due to her leg injury already."

Minerva was only barely aware of the hallways and doors they slipped through on the way to wherever Allison was hurrying to as she tried to process the words the Healer was saying. The witches passed through another door, and Allison raised her hand for Minerva to wait as she went ahead and moved to a particular box, taking a few small bottles, slipping them in one of the pockets of her Healer's uniform before taking an IV bag from a box a few rows lower and to the right. Pushing that box back as well, Allison stood from her crouching position and joined Minerva once more.

The Healer closed the door once they had left the room, and Minerva heard a soft click and realized the door had been locked behind them. Allison began to walk back the way they had come and continued to speak. "Actually, I'm more worried about what isn't right on the surface, because mostly with high impact collisions, _the_ worst damage can't be seen. You can appear perfectly fine on the exterior and have unforeseeable internal damage… I can assure you that if there's anyone who can save the passenger if it comes to it, it is Garrott, though. He is my best Trauma Healer, and he has brought a great many back from the edge of death. I'll come and inform you when I know more. You can't go farther than this anymore. I'm sorry, Minerva."

Minerva felt her shoulder being squeezed, and she looked up at the Hufflepuff, who gave her a wan smile before disappearing through the doors to the critical care unit where no visitors or others were allowed. The Gryffindor sighed in near-despair, finally letting the information sink in. She hadn't given it much thought, had focused on getting as much information from Allison as possible. After all, she hadn't known who was driving, and she was already in a hurry.

At least now she knew why Hermione hadn't been on time at Hogwarts or hadn't let her know why she wasn't. She fell back against the wall beside the door to the critical care quarters, where she had stood earlier. She wanted to be there in case Allison or someone else who might know more left the quarters. The waiting room was too far away.

Minerva's green eyes fluttered shut. _No._ She slowly lifted a hand over her mouth as tears immediately sprang to her eyes upon the sudden realization. If Hermione had gone to get her mother at the train station, it seemed very unlikely that they would switch sides to come home.

She vaguely remembered the younger witch telling her that her mother couldn't drive, and therefore when her father was abroad for work, Hermione was the person who always drove her mom though she never minded it. Hermione's father had gotten himself a job in a company while in Australia and had continued in that interest while back in the United Kingdom. Robert was a chief manager now for a big firm that required him to be abroad a few weeks several times a year, Hermione had mentioned. Hermione's folks had been young when they had her, thus he wasn't quite ready to retire yet. Plus, Hermione had stated he was the sort of person who always had to be occupied no matter what.

It would make sense. If Jean's train had been delayed (it really must have, considering the hour when the accident must have happened), then wasn't it more likely for Hermione to have Apparated from the train station, letting her mother drive home by herself? No, they had both been in that car… and its driver had died.

Minerva was positively sure that she remembered it correctly. Hermione had mentioned it over dinner that one time when they had run into each other at the Ministry. Her mother had been hoping to get her driver's license for many years, but never had.

She could twist it or turn it as she wanted at that point, it made no sense that Hermione's mother had been behind the wheel, and the driver had died. _Hermione_ had… _Oh, Merlin! No! This… couldn't be._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

Minerva McGonagall had never been one to wait when a matter close to heart was at stake at a moment like that, when she was alone with said heart. She hadn't really been good at it as a child nor as a teenager or young woman… nor now. Through the years and through adulthood, she had, of course, learned the virtue of 'patience'. Still, when matters close at heart were going on, Minerva was not a person to be kept waiting. She was a woman who had known lots of loss in her long life, who had suffered more than she let on through three wars and the aftermath of them. She knew how to deal with it, or so she thought. However, would that prior experience take away from the heartache? Would it make it easier as well?

It left her feeling restless and irritable. She hated not knowing what was going on behind those doors, not knowing _anything_. Mostly, she wanted to just… She wiped her eyes on the inside of her sleeve just in case, sniffling lightly. She wanted to just _see_ Hermione. She was not family, nor listed in any way. Therefore, chances she would actually get to see her were small. Minerva would never believe it if she couldn't see her, though… maybe say goodbye even. She needed to see the facts to really accept them.

It was rather curious how the witch had wormed her way into Minerva's heart. She had always noticed the great intelligence and beauty residing in her even if it might not have fully blossomed yet. So at age twenty-five, Hermione Granger had become all that Minerva had expected her to be from the first time she had seen her… had noticed the way in which her eyes always seemed to trail across everything to take it all in, how her ears seemed perked always to catch anything that was worth remembering… and surpassed her estimations.

She had been very surprised and yet not to find herself pushed up against the stone wall in London just the night prior. The whole night seemed to have led to it naturally; it had almost seemed bound to happen. When the two witches were together, it became very clear that they seemed to be on the same level on so many aspects… almost like, dare she say it, _soul-mates_. Like they were just bound to do that and… maybe more than that? Minerva McGonagall knew how rare it actually was to be able to have conversations about everything and anything with the same person, and it did seem the case with Hermione Granger. She was sure that there were matters she knew little about as opposed to Hermione and the opposite would surely prove true, too… but maybe they could teach each other… _could have_ , Minerva corrected herself.

After about half an hour, Minerva sat in one of two armchairs farther down the hospital hallway. From there, she still had a relatively good view of the doors to the critical care unit. She had seen her chance when the mother and daughter – or so she assumed – who had occupied those left. Minerva's legs had begun to ache from being upright too long. After all, Minerva McGonagall would reach eighty that year. She was quite sure the additional emotional aspect of the situation was not doing any wonders either.

She didn't know for how long she sat there, but it did feel like many hours. Oh, there was a clock hanging against the wall, but she didn't know when she had sat down. One-fifteen, it showed. Normally, her stomach should have rumbled by that time, but hunger was far from her mind. The mere thought of food made her stomach turn and made her feel nauseous. She was only barely not giving in to lowering her head in both hands and just weeping. No, Minerva McGonagall was not the sort of woman who wept without reason. Even if the witch had enough reason to, she was the sort who pushed through and was tough for everyone else. Of course, no one knew what happened when the door to her private quarters fell shut at night. Some suspected she just wept then, when she was alone. Some suspected that she was incapable after a lifetime of losses and challenges – after all, she had rarely in her adult years wept even as a younger Ministry official, when she lost her mother, father, brothers and close companions. Those who hadn't known her for long suspected she had cried enough for a lifetime in younger years. Maybe everyone was a little bit right in that regard.

She had realized many years prior that Hermione was a beautiful woman, of course. However, it had only been until dinner the night before when she had begun to consider what it might be like being with her, when her rational mind was not occupied with age differences and former relationships, had been tampered maybe by the alcohol. She never would have admitted to it herself, but when Hermione had pressed her up against that rough, stone wall… she didn't really have the strength or heart to tell her to stop. Because she didn't want that, not even her rational mind.

Minerva's rational mind had of course mentioned how it wasn't 'right', but while in discussion with her feelings telling her mind to shut it for once and that she deserved to feel some delight and maybe be happy, Minerva's reason had thrown its towel in and buggered off. Her only worry had been Hermione and the fear that she hadn't _truly_ wanted it. Therefore, Minerva had tried not to live on too much hope. The Gryffindor's reason had returned fully come morn, but the memories of their kisses and that moment after dinner had not left her mind and she doubted it ever would.

She could hear a door fall shut and redirected her gaze at once to the source. Allison left the critical care unit, moving her hand slightly to indicate that Minerva should remain seated where she was. She swallowed the bile in her throat and did as she was asked. This wasn't a good sign. Had they just lost Jean, too?

Allison sat down in the chair beside her old school mate and sighed deeply. "Mrs. Granger was behind the wheel," she said, reaching up to pinch the thin bridge of her nose to try and ease the headache she felt coming on.

"Thus, Hermione is alive?"

"Yes…" Allison said, but her voice somehow betrayed something Minerva had heard before on a few occasions – for instance, when Allison had come to tell her that her youngest brother, the only one who got away from their burning house when it had been set afire in the First Wizarding War, had died on the way to St. Mungo's from damage already done to his lungs and airways.

"However…?" Minerva encouraged; best to get it over with at once. She just needed the truth. Teal green conveyed this to vivid blue when their eyes connected.

Allison reached for Minerva's hand and squeezed it, taking in a rather deep breath through her nose before speaking. She couldn't deny the plea in teary green eyes – the eyes which she had known since their shared childhood. "We managed to Heal Miss Granger as well as can be at this juncture. After that, we have made an assessment of the damage done to her, though… and as I expected, the internal damage was immense. We suspect that she is pain-free and as comfortable as possible now, but…"

Minerva wanted to scream at those words. Where was the fairness in this? She asked the question she already knew the answer to. She needed to just hear it in words. She needed to… "Is there any chance at all?"

Allison was silent and motionless for a moment, taking in the state of the Gryffindor… strangely emotional. It wasn't the time or place, though. She shook her head. "No. I'm so sorry, Minerva."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 

Those sensations of lost delight, of happiness, of unity… of _longing_ Minerva had wanted to act upon so badly but hadn't because of the situation and their state of insobriety; because she had wanted to know with certainty Hermione really wanted it as well and wasn't acting from drunken loneliness in the moment, had wanted to know whatever she felt was mutual… they were gone as she leaned her head against the wall behind her.

Allison had squeezed her hand and kissed the top of her head as she left Minerva alone for a tad. The Hufflepuff didn't usually behave in that way. In fact, the only times she remembered Allison doing so were times of great distress, when she had been at the end of her tether and sometimes in tears. Allison was undoubtedly the last person still alive who had seen Minerva's tears. Minerva was sure that the Healer had noticed more than she should have and maybe had seen something more was going on than she should have. Otherwise, she never would have acted that way, she thought.

Minerva had never been a lesbian, of course. The Gryffindor had, in fact, fallen head over heels in love that summer before leaving for her last year at Hogwarts, with a male Muggle. They had known each other for many years, since childhood – it would have been rather strange not to, considering the small village in which they lived – but it had truly been that summer they began to fall in love. They kissed for the first time in his father's hay shed, two days before she would go back to Hogwarts. They would send each other letters as the year lasted. Minerva would go send them from Hogsmeade and would get the replies there, too.

The fact that he was a Muggle hadn't really bothered Minerva. He had been very handsome and kind. He had been a hard worker. Of course, then eighteen-year-old Minerva couldn't have wished for anything better, and when he proposed to her the month after she had left Hogwarts, the summer after they had admitted being madly in love with one another, with a nice ring and on both knees, she of course said yes. She had run home with the shimmering ring on her finger, happier than ever before, but despite the fact that neither her father or mother had said much about them until then though they of course knew, her mother had seemed less excited than her father had, wishing her a lot of happiness with Dougal McGregor. That night, her mother had come to her bedroom – something she rarely did and only when she wanted to talk in private with her daughter. She had reminded her of their Statue of Secrecy and that she would have to live the rest of her life without her magic if she should indeed chose to marry him.

Isobel's tears over how she had suffered under the loss of magic even though she loved Robert, Minerva's father, had hit close to the young woman's heart. Robert of course knew about magic, since all three children had showed signs of magic early. Still, Isobel never used magic when she was with him, thus… very rarely, and she suffered under it.

Taken by her mother's reminder, she gave Dougal his ring back the next morning and kissed him goodbye. When she finally left her bedroom after three days, Minerva was suddenly set to go into Auror training. She left that very same day for London, her heart still broken.

Minerva McGonagall threw herself into training. She lost her virginity to one of her fellow Aurors-to-be on a meaningless night after a very long day. They had never been in a relationship. Another Auror-to-be, Helgy, had landed in her bed not long after and unlike Hugh, she and Helgy had dated for a few months steadily before they went separate ways. Minerva dated another woman for about half a year after, then had a few meaningless nights with men and women alike before she chose to leave the Ministry and go teach at Hogwarts, not long after Death Eaters had, at the inception of the First Wizarding War, set her family home on fire, killing them and both her younger brothers, leaving Minerva without home…

Elphinstone had always had a weak spot for her. She had known soon after she enrolled at the Ministry. Her superior had made no secret of it, and though they were not overly intimate or close, he had often enough offered her his name and his love. However, she had always denied him, believing they were too unlike each other to make that work. She was more challenging, while Elphinstone had always been a little… passive despite rather intelligent.

When she received news of Dougal's death through The Daily Prophet, for he was most likely killed by Death Eaters, too, Minerva realized maybe the reason why she had never accepted Elphinstone was because that last time a man had asked her to marry them it had resulted in heartbreak. Elphinstone Urquart was magical, though. It made her realize her loneliness, too. The next time he mentioned marriage, she accepted. They kissed by the lake, got married a couple of months later.

The marriage had been happier than Minerva ever would have thought. She had learned to grow accustomed to and maybe even like his calmness in later years, enjoyed living with him in their cottage in Hogsmeade, from where Minerva Apparated back and forth to Hogwarts. Minerva had respected what he offered her then and learned to love him though never as Elphinstone loved her. She had told him she suspected she never could that way, but he had accepted that and they had found a balance together, though they lived more as siblings who shared a bed for sleeping only and rarely shared an intimacy of wife and husband. She was thoroughly upset when he passed away, though.

After him, Minerva had had the occasional encounter with Wilhelmina and Rolanda, but they had never been relationships. They had been too unattached, too lacking in emotional intensity… The kind she could definitely have with Hermione.

For Hermione, Minerva McGonagall felt the love she had once felt for Dougal, which she hadn't had with Elphinstone. For Hermione, she felt more than she thought she ever had with anyone, even though maybe she should not. It was utterly strange, almost random, how they had reacquainted, had clashed in a way to never let go of each other ever again… The mere thought of Hermione not surviving, of having to let go of… _No. Merlin, no._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 

Once Hermione was taken to a separate room, Allison informed Minerva that she could see her if she wanted to. Hermione's father was informed by the St. Mungo's staff, but she seriously doubted he would make it there in time to say goodbye to his daughter, like he hadn't managed to say goodbye to his wife. By the time he set foot on English earth again, his wife and daughter would be dead without him even having had the chance to say goodbye to either… family ruined, left to organize two funerals.

While Minerva still partially refused to believe Hermione Granger would in fact die, the headmistress still made sure to get the sad news of the accident and the fact that the Head Healer doubted that she would make it to the next morning to Harry and Ronald. It wouldn't be fair to not let them know anything and to not let them say goodbye. She assumed they would be there soon, thus leaving her a few minutes alone with the younger woman. A handful of minutes alone as opposed to the years, maybe decades, they could have had together in a relationship of equality if Hermione wanted. Minerva brusquely shook her head in disbelief. _No, Minerva._ They even had magic, for Merlin's damn sake. This wasn't supposed to happen now. This woman wasn't supposed to die yet. Minerva wouldn't have it.

With that very thought, Minerva stepped into the room. Darkness and the beeps of monitors took over when Minerva entered the hospital room. She slowly sat down on the chair Allison seemed to have thought of. She would have smiled at her thoughtfulness if the situation hadn't been so very serious. Allison Loughty was a thoughtful woman, a good companion.

Minerva calmly sat down on the chair beside the bed, reaching for the hand that lay palely upon the very white sheet. The skin was far colder than it should be, and it still shocked her despite the fact that Allison had warned her already and she had seen people die before – both in peaceful circumstances and war. Such a difference when compared to the night prior, when her touch had been scorching hot. A small whimper left the younger witch's throat, and Hermione's hazel eyes fluttered open, her head rolling slowly to the side to look at her visitor. She smiled, very weakly… very fleetingly. It seemed too much, though.

She took in the appearance of the headmistress. She had recognized the touch, but she needed to see the other woman, too. The concern upon regal features was rather obvious, and Hermione swallowed with great difficulty. Allison had warned her as well that Hermione would have difficulty speaking and would most likely be barely understandable before she would slip in a coma… and die not long after that. The Head Healer suspected she would not reach midnight. The internal damage was just too immense; her spinal cord had suffered severe trauma, too. Respiratory failure was only one of many conditions.

"Hi," Minerva greeted, forcing a little smile to her lips though she felt little reason to smile as she looked upon the pale features of the woman in the bed.

"Minerva… Is it true that Mum died?"

Minerva's green eyes connected with teary hazel. She remained quiet for a little longer than necessary, before nodding. "I'm afraid so," she said as she trailed a thumb across the back of the dying woman's hand. She tried to pour as much sorrow in it as possible as she confirmed that indeed, her mother had died. Her heart broke a little seeing how Hermione's eyes filled with tears at once. She bit down on her lip as if she wanted to scream at the news, and she might have if it hadn't been for her condition. The tears soon slipped from Hermione's eyes as she began to sob in despair. "I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, and she was sad she couldn't offer more. She wanted to know why the hell that she hadn't been behind the wheel, but it wasn't the right time or place. Would it have been better had she died at once without a chance to say goodbye and her mom in this bed, suffering on the way to her own now?

"Mum…" Hermione crooned, as if she was in physical pain. Maybe she was even… Allison had mentioned she had gotten some painkillers to make her more comfortable, but that she would most likely still be in some pain no matter what.

"I've Owled Harry and Ronald. I suspect that they will be here soon enough. You'll wish to see them more than you do me, I reckon." She said it in a rather matter-of-fact sort of way. "Your father was informed as well. He'll be boarding the first plane back," she continued, looking down at their entwined hands for a moment before gazing back at Hermione. A strange unspoken understanding passed between them in that moment, it seemed. Hermione was the one to break the silence, her voice rough and unfamiliar.

"Dad won't make it… anymore, will he?" she asked, interrupted by a cough. It wasn't really a question, more a notion of sorts.

"Ah… Allison fears not, but I say you keep fighting, okay?"

She didn't answer that. Hermione's hazel eyes fluttered shut once more, and Minerva watched her nibble on her lip before she eyed the elder witch again. A slight smile seemed to grace her lips, but the muscles surrounding her mouth quivered with the effort, Minerva saw. "I can't feel my body anymore."

"Allison said that isn't abnormal. Is there anything I can do for you now?"

She gently nodded. "L-Listen…" Hermione whispered. "I have to tell you something, before I… die…" Just as she was continuing, the white door opened. Minerva looked over her shoulder to see the two boys she had contacted, accompanied by Ginevra Weasley. Concern was readable on their faces. Minerva turned to the younger witch, regret readable in her own. She sighed.

Minerva McGonagall could tell it must be something of great importance to Hermione, but the passing emotion on her face showed that it wasn't meant to be heard by anyone else. Still, Harry and Ronald and Ginevra were there, and… Minerva stood, and as a look passed between them she leaned over the younger woman and kissed the top of her head. Their foreheads touched for longer than necessary. Neither Minerva nor Hermione cared, though. It didn't matter now. Little still mattered now. "Hold on…" she whispered very softly. _Hold on, my dear. Please._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 

Allison's blue eyes slid over her longtime companion, taking in the haggard appearance, seeing the secrets beyond those veiled teal green eyes. Minerva was a very private woman, everyone knew. However, her eyes weren't usually so veiled and so secretive as they were now, despite the fact that the Gryffindor was obviously suffering. Even the gaze of a person who didn't know her at all would have caught the sadness. Allison knew what was visible was often only a small bit of what pain lay beneath, and it filled her own heart with agony.

She had been leaning against the wall by Hermione Granger's room, for a bit after the two Weasleys and Harry Potter had arrived. Minerva had wanted to give them some privacy, had said that it wouldn't be fair to take away their chances of being with Hermione alone now. The Healer had taken the headmistress to her office in St. Mungo's and offered her a cup of coffee or tea, but she had refused any, saying she was fine enough.

The word 'goodbye' had refused to leave her thin lips stubbornly, as had any other reference to the younger witch's impending death. She had seen the behavior often in this sort of cases. Fathers and mothers who refused to believe that their children were dying. Lovers… Minerva had always seemed tougher than anyone else – tougher than her no doubt. However, Minerva was a mere human being now suffering from the impending death of an… ex-pupil? It didn't make sense.

"Tell me, Minerva," Allison whispered. "Please. I know there's something more going on here."

Neither woman dared interrupt the silence until Minerva suddenly spoke, "I hate how you have learned to read me so well."

The Healer recognized the hidden admission and wrapped an arm about Minerva's slender back, pulling her close to her in order to offer comfort. She knew that mostly it would just mean a lot, but it wouldn't take any of the pain away. She had known the woman for so many decades now, and despite the many secrets she was sure she still had, there were some matters she knew nearly certain and one of them was that every shred of pain Minerva allowed herself to feel was what others would feel in the same position. That's what worried her so much. Anyone else would have curled up sobbing on the floor or crying and screaming in this unknown situation. She only wished she knew which one that was. "I don't," she said. "I'm glad that I have learned to. Goodness knows how much more you would keep inside if it wasn't for that."

Minerva inhaled deeply, waiting for long moments before she began to speak as if she had used every little millisecond to decide whether she should speak or not and if so, what she should say and what not and in what way. Eventually, she whispered, "Hermione and I got reacquainted a little while ago, after years of having lost contact. We wasted time away and yesterday, we had dinner at Delhi's. She was supposed to come to Hogwarts this morning, but didn't appear … then Dilys mentioned that she had been…"

"…taken here. I'm sorry, Minerva, but somehow I feel it isn't really the whole truth you're telling me."

"We uh… We kissed last night after dinner. It had every indication of going lots further than that, but we had both had a little too much …"

Somehow, Allison wasn't surprised to hear this at all. Actually, some memories began to make a lot more sense now. Hermione's name had accidentally fallen in their last conversation a few nights ago though, and the smile on Minerva's face as she repeated that the girl had been one of the best pupils she had ever taught had been so genuine, so unlike the past few years. Because she knew Minerva hadn't been very happy in the last thirty years. She had managed just fine at least to the eye of the unpracticed beholder and she had never talked about it at all, but the shimmer in those green eyes hadn't been there anymore like Allison remembered from when they both were younger.

That was the change that was what was most noticeable. The shimmer had returned in that fleeting moment when they had talked about Hermione and maybe it had been there for some time, but it hadn't come to the surface until then yet. _Minerva had begun to fall in love with this young woman._ Allison's heart clenched at that realization, and she suddenly understood her reaction all too well. She had begun to fall in love again after so many years, and now the woman she had begun to fall for was dying, so soon after the possibility of the next step in their blossoming relationship. She only would have had to make it this morning in order for Minerva to have come to her to say that she was seeing someone again. She knew Minerva and knew she must have had doubts and whatnot, which is why she had discontinued them, but this was just too… She couldn't catch it, the heartache. She wanted to curse, and did. If there was one matter in which they were not alike, it was that Allison wasn't as proper in her speech as Minerva. "Shit," she said.

They hadn't even been granted any time together. Minerva's darn but beautiful modesty had made them wait. She of course didn't know the details of the night prior – maybe she didn't have to – but they seemed to have little to go on before Hermione would exhale her last breath. It was an unfortunate moment. If only they had been a minute earlier at the crossroads… or later. If only the driver that had come from another side street… It wouldn't make much of a difference. If only the impact had been slightly different. They hadn't had a chance at all to talk about what might have become of them …

Minerva's modesty had made her step aside for the Weasleys and Potter, foregoing again the chance of talking for what could be the last time with Hermione. She had barely been alone with her for two minutes. They couldn't have talked. Her eyes fluttered shut at the intensity of the situation. Minerva's battered heart broke again… It couldn't happen. It couldn't be happening; not again… Minerva had already suffered enough.

Then Minerva's voice broke gently through the silence again, "There must be something you can do. I've seen you pull many back from the edge that wouldn't have stood a chance without you _so_ many times even with lesser means and even in the middle of the battlefield!" she cried, turning her face to look at the Hufflepuff. "You pulled me back from the edge in the First Wizarding War! Albus was terrified I wouldn't make it and said you performed Healer magic that he had never seen before…"

Allison looked back into those desperate green eyes. "I couldn't let my buddy die," she whispered. "I couldn't and wouldn't let you slip away through my own fingers."

"Please don't let her slip away either now, Allison… Please. Try, for me."

Blue eyes took in the appearance of the Gryffindor, the despair and faint trace of hope still in teal green. Her tone was bordering on begging. "I might not have time for that, Minerva…" Allison whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The change in the younger woman's appearance, the worsening of her condition in such little time was overwhelming. Although she had already been pale when Minerva had been there prior to Harry and Ginevra and Ronald, that was nothing compared to now. She didn't have any color at all now, it seemed, and her lips had turned bluish, her eyes having become unclear, too. Hermione's breathing had become ragged and audible already… but in no good way. _Merlin, Allison… HURRY!_

When Minerva mentioned that Hermione had wanted to talk to her prior to the arrival of the Weasleys and Harry, Allison insisted that Minerva go back and listen to what she needed to say… before she couldn't anymore. Minerva, of course, had refused, telling her that she needed time with her school mates, and that it wouldn't be fair not to allow them to tell her goodbye. Allison's reaction had been direct, telling her that she deserved to be there just as much if not more and that she never would forgive herself, if Hermione slipped in a coma now and couldn't tell her again whatever she had intended to say. She had still disagreed, but when she sat beside the bed and looked upon the woman in it, she was glad that Allison had managed to slip her in again.

Hermione's hazel eyes had been closed when she came in, and they had remained so until the touch of Minerva's hand atop her own. Minerva noticed that she seemed to have trouble turning her head to face the older woman. She doubted for a moment before getting up from her chair again, moving to sit down on the edge of the hospital bed to save Hermione from having to move too much. She smiled weakly at Hermione, tears shining in her eyes.

"Mi… nerva…" Hermione croaked before visibly swallowing, undoubtedly shocked by how weak her voice sounded. Minerva was, too.

Minerva smiled and quietly nodded. "I'm here," she whispered, watching as a small smile passed over Hermione's features. She was a beautiful woman even despite her condition. She forced herself to push past those thoughts. "You wanted to tell me something earlier," she reminded the younger woman, "before Mr. Weasley and the Potters came in."

Hermione slowly nodded. "You were the first woman I fell… madly in love with…" she managed, only having been interrupted once from her coughing and after she had finished speaking. Minerva could see how her eyes fluttered shut again for a moment and scrunched up as she swallowed once more with difficulty before continuing. Minerva was wise enough not to say or ask anything more. She was slightly surprised when Hermione continued to speak and her voice seemed less hoarse. "I was so confused and so upset for so long… I realized that I liked women, too, about the same time I realized that I was no longer in love with Ron. After seeing you that day in London, for one reason or another I saw you in a whole other light and it never went…"

"You were still with Ron at that time," Minerva noted after some seconds, certain that Hermione wouldn't continue anymore.

Hermione nodded slowly. "I know…" she whimpered. Minerva bit down on her lower lip as she realized what Hermione was saying. She had been the first woman Hermione had fallen in love with. She could feel her heart breaking more and jump up with joy all at the same time. "Minerva, you didn't cause the end of my relationship…" It was highly important she knew this. She had known this woman for many years, and she could tell she feared that she had caused their relationship to end, however indirectly. However, she hadn't really been happily in love with Ron for a while – not that kind of happy; the kind of happy she had gotten to feel when Minerva was either in her line of sight or even in her mind.

"I suspected that yesterday night was not exactly an impulse. I never saw you as a woman who did anything without thinking, but… I wanted to be sure. I was both overwhelmed and yet not," Minerva said, her green eyes never leaving the hazel ones. This was a time for honesty. Minerva McGonagall knew better but to remind Hermione of those many reasons why she shouldn't love her at that point. If she thought about it all rationally, she knew Hermione Granger was a very intelligent and thoughtful young witch… so maybe she should just rely on her ability to do what was best for now. She suppressed her disbelief that this intelligent and beautiful young woman could love her by her great confidence in her.

"Was it for you?" Hermione rasped.

"An impulse? No," Minerva confessed in the moment of all honesty. "I really hoped to have had this conversation at Hogwarts this morning, instead of St. Mungo's in these unhappier circumstances, though," she admitted. She wasn't exactly known for speaking more than necessary and maybe she shouldn't have said it at all. After all, she was certain enough that Hermione thought the same of it all. Maybe her words were just meaningless anyway, but still…

"I wouldn't have told… you unless I… was dying…" Hermione said, her soft whispers falling away a couple of times, causing her sentence to interrupt and her having to try again. Her breathing was even painful to listen to now, as she tried to go on. "I never intended to tell you. I never planned to kiss you either, but… it happened…" she managed, and Minerva truly had to strain her ears at that point to hear her at all.

She gently squeezed the cold hand in hers. "You're going to make it, Hermione. You're going to fight and survive this, you hear me? "

"Allison's uncertain… I'm so sorry, Minerva. I never even got the chance to properly date you as you deserve; I just jumped on you."

"Oh, it is a moment to always remember, Hermione… one that, despite ending too soon, I'll treasure forever," Minerva whispered. She was giving up… and at that realization, she could feel the tears press harder against her eyes; she was on the verge of losing her composure. "I don't want you to speak that way, though, all right? You'll have a lot of chances to make it up to me. Yesterday was our first date of many more to come."

Hermione stopped trying to fight Minerva as she felt her strength slip away, drawing on her belief and hope for a happy end nonetheless. It was too easy and too beautiful to succumb… "Where will you take me next?" she croaked, her eyes fluttering shut. It cost so much effort to keep them open, and Minerva's familiar voice was a beautiful calming sound to listen to.

Minerva released a shaky breath and let her own eyes fall shut, willing herself to imagine away. _Please, Allison… Please don't take too long anymore now…_ "When you are released from here, we're going to eat in the most expensive restaurant of Great Britain, you and I. We're going to finish what we began yesterday, and then the morning after you'll wake in my bed instead of here. How's that sound?"

Minerva's eyes fluttered open and looked upon the pale face. She couldn't bear the sound of Hermione's raspy breathing. A tear had leaked from the side of Hermione's eye, she noticed, and she reached up to wipe it away, barely aware of the tears running quietly down her own cheeks. When she pulled her hand back, she could suddenly feel a touch upon her forearm and looked down to see that Hermione's hand had somehow made it there. That was the moment when she realized all help would come too late. Even if Allison came rushing in now, it would be too late. "'s Love… ly…" Hermione managed, and at that point the dam broke for Minerva. She sobbed audibly and at once bit down on her bottom lip to suppress more of those sounds, holding onto her hand tightly in that hard moment. If only it would make a difference in that moment…

Heavy eyelids fluttered and became motionless. "Hermione..." Minerva whispered, half panicked... half resigned. Then she could hear and feel the younger witch's breath hitch… and stop. Minerva's head shot up right as the monitors to which she had been attached showed a flat line and a high monotone sound. _No!_

No nurses would come bursting in for resuscitation. No one would…

Minerva lowered her head down on the younger witch's quiet chest and sobbed. "NO! NO!" she screamed, muffled by the fabric. Her body shook with sobs as she cried for the new love that could have become so rich and beautiful, like a flower leaning towards the sun on a warm summer day… but it had been killed without mercy, the very last thread on which it had dangled since the car accident just having broken off in Minerva's arms. A love which had the potential to be everything but wouldn't get the chance ever to blossom. "I love you..."


End file.
